Doctor's Orders

by Deanna Ashford

  ‘I don’t think I could handle all the attention that goes with the notoriety.’ Often during their dates they’d had their private moments interrupted by overzealous fans. Max had a natural ability to take such moments in his stride, but Helen hated the regular unwanted intrusions on their privacy.

  ‘It’s not so bad.’ Max removed a few stray pins from her hair and ran his fingers through her tangled locks. ‘I suggest you use my bathroom and do something about your hair before Ella sees you, Helen. You know how much of a gossip my secretary is.’

  ‘Ella often confides in me. She’s certain that you’re having a secret affair with someone in the hospital,’ Helen replied with a smile. ‘She just hasn’t cottoned on that it’s me,’ she added as she pulled on her white coat and picked up a felt-tip pen which had fallen from the pocket and rolled half under a chair.

  Max piled the scattered books and papers back on to his desk, then straightened and looked at his watch. ‘I’ll have to leave soon,’ he said.

  ‘Can you make dinner tonight?’ she asked.

  ‘Sure. We’ll eat at my place. I’ll order in,’ Max replied, then added in a more serious tone. ‘We have a lot to discuss.’

  She tensed. ‘Have you heard? Has the final decision on the hospital’s future been made?’

  ‘Yes,’ Max replied. ‘I got a call this morning, just before you barged into my office.’

  ‘Judging by your expression, the news isn’t good?’

  ‘You’re right,’ he confirmed.

  ‘Damn,’ Helen exclaimed in angry frustration. ‘Then St Matthew’s will definitely close?’

  ‘It’s not the end of the world, Helen.’ Max shrugged his shoulders. ‘We’ll talk about the future tonight.’

  ‘Sure,’ she agreed, trying to contain her disappointment. The staff had worked hard lately in a last ditch attempt to save the hospital from closure. ‘As you say, Max, we can talk tonight.’

  Inamoratia – an elegant, very expensive restaurant close to the Tower of London, was crowded as usual. There were a number of major celebrities among the regular clientele, and the owners prided themselves on the fact that their diners could enjoy themselves in peace. The restaurant had a strict rule; fans, or admirers of any kind, who troubled the personalities, were always asked swiftly and politely to leave.

  It had been three days since Helen had discovered that St Matthew’s was closing, and a lot had happened in that short length of time. She and Max had some final matters to discuss and in the restaurant she knew that they would be able to enjoy each other’s company undisturbed.

  Helen had chosen to wear a scrap of designer black satin that she knew had cost Max an obscene amount of money. The short, bias-cut dress had a low neckline and was held up by thin shoestring straps. It had been Max’s birthday present to her. The dress was cut so low at the back it was impossible to wear a bra, but Helen was lucky; despite the fact that her breasts were large and full, they were still as firm and uptilted as they had been in her teens. Also, at Max’s behest, she’d left off her panties.

  When she walked into the restaurant, Helen felt bold and blatantly sexual. The soft satin caressed her erect nipples, brushing sensuously against her belly and sex as she moved. The skimpy garment was short – a good eight inches above her knees – and it flared out at the hem. She felt even more excited and apprehensive knowing that one indiscreet movement would bare the blonde curls of her pubis to public gaze.

  Max was already seated at their usual table, and Helen moved to join him, oblivious of the admiring glances from a number of the other male diners. Helen was twenty-nine years old, and not only was she extremely clever, she was also beautiful: tall and elegant, with delicate features, grey-blue eyes and hair the colour of spun gold.

  ‘I’ve already ordered,’ Max said, as she sat down beside him at the small round table.

  ‘I’m not very hungry,’ she replied, picking up her glass of red wine.

  ‘Still upset about the hospital closing, and me moving to the States?’

  Max had told her all his plans the evening she had discovered the hospital was closing. He, along with a small group of financial backers, was planning to open up a string of plastic surgery clinics all across America.

  ‘Everything’s happened so quickly,’ she said. She still couldn’t help resenting the fact that he’d not confided in her as fully as he could. As far as she had known the US business venture was still only in the early planning stages. Now she’d discovered it was almost complete.

  ‘I understand how you feel.’ Max smiled reassuringly as he put his hand on her knee under the cover of the tablecloth. He slid it slowly upwards past the lacy tops of her hold-up stockings. His blue eyes darkened with desire as, from then on, he encountered nothing but bare flesh. ‘You did as I asked,’ he whispered huskily.

  ‘Does that turn you on?’ she smiled seductively, feeling empowered by the expression on Max’s face, ‘Knowing that I’m naked under this dress.’

  ‘More than you know,’ he growled, ceasing his exploration and letting his hand rest on the upper part of her bare thigh. ‘I’m going to miss you like crazy.’

  ‘Me too.’ She would miss the great sex if nothing else, although Max could be a selfish bastard and was sometimes more concerned with his own pleasure than hers.

  ‘You could join me sooner if you wouldn’t insist on being so independent.’

  ‘I won’t let you keep me, Max, even for a few months. I’ll come as soon as I can get a green card, and authority to practise medicine in the States.’

  In the meantime, Max had offered Helen a senior registrar’s job at the Princess Beatrice Clinic – an exclusive private hospital that was owned by him and his American financial partners. Helen would have preferred to follow her NHS patients who were transferring to the King’s Cross Hospital, but the plastic surgery clinic there was already fully staffed. In the normal course of events Helen would never have accepted a job at a private hospital, but they had offered almost double her current salary. At present her outgoings substantially exceeded her incomings, a fact that had more or less forced her to agree to the very generous short-term contract.

  ‘How will I ever manage without this?’ he purred, his hand moving higher again, his fingers pulling teasingly at her blonde pubic curls.

  ‘Perhaps you’ll find someone else?’ she said lightly, opening her slim thighs, wanting his searching fingers to slide between her pussy lips. There was something highly titillating about knowing that Max intended to frig her in front of all these people.

  ‘No one else pleases me like you do, Helen.’ Max leaned closer and whispered in her ear, ‘This hot little pussy is all mine, never forget that.’

  Helen gave a soft sigh, her eyes glazing over, the sounds of the other diners receding, as Max’s tantalising fingers began their slow sensual exploration. However, her pleasure was interrupted by the unexpected sound of a male voice.

  ‘Max – I never thought I’d see you here!’ The deep voice, with its strong mid-Atlantic undertones, made the hairs on the back of Helen’s neck prickle.

  ‘Duncan!’ Max smiled warmly at the man. ‘What brings you back to England?’ he asked, ceasing the subtle movements of his fingers, but letting his left hand remain where it was, lightly cupping her sex. He seemed casual in his greeting, making no attempt to stand, or shake hands, as he normally would when coming across an old acquaintance.

  Helen couldn’t fail to recognise the famous movie star, Duncan Paul. During her teenage years, Helen had been mad about Duncan, having a crush to end all crushes on him. He hadn’t been quite so well known then; it was at the beginning of his career, when he had been starring in an action-adventure TV series. Tall and muscular, with black hair and dark brown eyes, Duncan was even more devastatingly handsome in the flesh.

  ‘Mind if I join you for a moment?’ Duncan did not wait for a reply. He pulled up an extra chair and sat down at their table. ‘I’m filming here during the coming months. I
’m executive producer on this one, so I’m heavily into pre-production work.’ Duncan’s deep voice caressed Helen’s senses. Goosepimples formed on her skin and her stomach tightened, just as Max’s fingers closed possessively over her naked pubis.

  There was barely room for an extra person at the small table, and Duncan’s presence proved quite overwhelming for an already highly aroused Helen. Duncan was undeniably sexy, and the close proximity of the two men, coupled with the feel of Max’s hand on her crotch, made her feel incredibly horny. Her breasts swelled and her nipples stiffened even more, until the aching peaks lewdly distended the thin satin of her dress.

  ‘Helen.’ Max glanced over at her. Fully aware, by the way her juices were steadily dampening the palm of his hand, that she was now even more highly aroused. ‘This is my cousin, Duncan Paul. Duncan, may I introduce Dr Helen Dawson.’

  Helen smiled, surprised that Max had never bothered to tell her he was related to such a famous movie star.

  ‘You’ve been keeping this one very quiet, Max.’ Duncan looked admiringly at Helen as he lifted her hand to his lips. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, fair lady.’

  Lust crawled slowly over her skin, and she shivered slightly. ‘I’m an admirer of your work, Duncan,’ Helen managed to say in a husky voice, although it was difficult to sound composed. Max’s fingers were sliding inside her now, teasing and tantalising her senses, while she was so close to Duncan she could smell the musky maleness emanating from his body.

  Helen’s senses were so inflamed, so on edge, she felt as if she were floating and about to climax at any moment. Taking hold of her wine glass, she gripped the stem tightly, fighting to retain control of herself. It wasn’t easy. Max’s searching fingers ventured deeper, until she thought she would scream aloud with pleasure. Agitatedly she glanced over at Max, who had a calm unconcerned expression on his face, which belied what he was doing to her under the cover of the tablecloth.

  ‘Helen’s a great fan it seems,’ Max said. ‘Judging by the effect you’re having on her, Duncan. I’ve never seen her so overwhelmed.’ As he spoke he pressed his thumb down hard on her clit, and it took all the self control Helen had to remain still and stop herself from gasping aloud. Her thighs shook slightly, and beads of sweat formed on her brow, as Max doubled the assault on her senses.

  ‘It’s great to meet someone who likes my work. Max never tells his friends that we’re related,’ Duncan said to Helen. ‘Too embarrassed I reckon. He thinks most of the movies I make are rubbish.’

  ‘Not all of them,’ Max amended. ‘Just the ones where you save the world single-handed,’ he added jokingly.

  As Helen’s orgasm exploded, the stem of her glass snapped under the pressure of her grasping fingers, spilling blood-red wine over the white tablecloth. ‘Oh, God!’ she gasped.

  Grabbing a napkin, Duncan blotted up the wine and looked worriedly at Helen. ‘You didn’t cut yourself, did you?’

  ‘No. I feel so silly, it just snapped,’ Helen said, pulling down her dress and standing up in one agitated movement. ‘Excuse me, I have to go to the ladies,’ she added shakily. Picking up her bag, she moved swiftly away from the table.

  ‘Duncan really turned you on, didn’t he?’ Max said, managing to sound remarkably cool and untroubled.

  Duncan had gone back to join the people he was dining with, before Helen returned from the ladies’. Max had never resented his cousin’s movie star looks and fame before, but he did now. Judging by her response, Helen really fancied Duncan, and that knowledge annoyed him and made him feel extraordinarily jealous.

  During dinner Max had managed to deftly brush aside Helen’s curious questions about Duncan. Instead they had talked about her new job, and Max’s impending move to the States. They were now about to leave, and Max could contain his curiosity no longer. He had to find out exactly what Helen thought about his world famous cousin.

  ‘I have to admit he is gorgeous looking. I had rather a crush on him when I was a teenager,’ Helen owned up, laughing in an embarrassed kind of way. ‘I never expected to meet the guy, certainly not here of all places. Then to discover you and Duncan Paul were related . . .’

  ‘Perhaps you’re not quite over your youthful crush,’ Max remarked as they entered the lift. They were followed by an elderly couple. The woman was wearing a genuine mink coat. As the lift started to move she stared thoughtfully at Max, who pointedly ignored her and leaned closer to Helen.

  ‘Do you know that every time I lifted my fork to my mouth during dinner I could smell your come on my hands,’ he whispered in Helen’s ear. ‘It made me feel so bloody horny. I wanted to bury my face in your quim and suck you dry.’

  ‘If you had, I’d probably have destroyed the rest of the glass and crockery on the table. The head waiter was upset enough about one glass,’ she whispered back, colouring slightly. She cast a wary glance in the direction of the elderly couple, before adding, ‘I want you right now, Max.’

  Max gave a husky chuckle. ‘I’d be only too happy to oblige, but those two old fogies would probably have a heart attack. I’m in no mood to give CPR,’ he replied, just as they reached the basement car park.

  Max and Helen followed the elderly couple into the small concrete passage, eager to reach the privacy of Max’s Mercedes. However, the old woman turned and smiled hesitantly at Max, her overweight bulk half-blocking their way. ‘Aren’t you that wonderful TV doctor? The one who does the programme on women’s health?’

  ‘I am indeed.’ Max pulled Helen closer to him and slid an impatient hand under the back of her dress to cup her bare buttocks. He fondled her soft tempting flesh, so hungry for her now it was unbelievable. Max was in no mood for an extended encounter with an adoring fan tonight.

  ‘I do love your programme,’ the woman continued in a tremulous voice. ‘The last two have been so informative. You are wonderful and I –’

  ‘I’m so glad,’ Max interrupted, his fragile patience running out. ‘Horny’ didn’t even describe the way he was feeling. ‘I can understand your interest in the segments on plastic surgery, but at your age I fail to understand how you could find female fertility problems so fascinating,’ he continued curtly. ‘If you’ll excuse us.’

  Max pulled Helen past the couple, out into the underground car park. The lights were dimmer here, the cavernous depths filled with the odour of musky dampness and spent exhaust fumes.

  ‘That was unnecessarily cruel,’ Helen pointed out. ‘You could have been more diplomatic. You probably upset the old dear.’

  ‘Who cares!’ Max snapped, feeling tense yet aroused. The heady mixture of lust tinged with jealousy was steadily gaining strength. ‘I just said what I thought for once.’

  ‘That’s so unlike you, Max. You never lose your cool when confronted by adoring fans.’

  ‘Perhaps I should more often,’ he growled, pulling her impatiently towards the spot where he’d parked his car.

  ‘Slow down – you’re hurting my arm,’ Helen complained.

  ‘Too bad.’

  ‘I’m not sure I like this new side of you, Max.’

  His mouth set in a grim line and Max ignored her. Helen’s response to Duncan’s arrival was the one thing now consuming his thoughts. Max was suddenly feeling insecure, an uncomfortable emotion for a man usually so certain of his own sexual attraction.

  ‘Fuck you.’ Helen stumbled slightly on her high heels as Max dragged her between his black Mercedes and the white Rolls Royce parked next to it. ‘What the hell is wrong with you?’

  ‘Nothing!’ He would soon make her forget Duncan, show this randy little bitch who was her master. Max had never experienced such overwhelming jealousy. Helen was his, his alone, and he intended to prove that to her in no uncertain terms.

  ‘Why are you being so unreasonable?’ Helen sounded angry as he pushed her against the bonnet of the Mercedes. ‘You’re drunk, aren’t you?’

  ‘On a couple of bottles of burgundy?’ he growled. ‘On the contrary, Helen, I’m frigh
teningly sober,’ he continued. ‘I just didn’t like your behaviour this evening. I suppose you think it normal to act like a bitch in heat when another guy sits next to you!’

  Blood pounded through Max’s veins, his cock growing harder until it pressed urgently against the zip of his trousers.

  ‘You’re jealous.’ She feigned surprise. ‘That’s irrational. I was aroused because you were finger-fucking me in the middle of a crowded restaurant.’

  ‘Do you think I’m stupid? You were barely damp when I touched you. Duncan appeared and your quim was dripping wet. The difference was unbelievable,’ he growled, letting his fury erupt.

  ‘I want you, not him.’

  Max knew Helen was lying, but it didn’t matter. Grabbing hold of the straps of her dress, he yanked them down her arms, feeling the fragile satin tear at the seams. His lust magnified as the black bodice slid downwards, exposing her bare breasts, the full globes glowing palely in the dim light.

  ‘Helen,’ he groaned, bending his head, pulling one pert nipple into his mouth and sucking on it like a hungry child.

  Helen whimpered softly, the sound echoing eerily around them, and Max knew that he still held full sway over her senses. He felt the tenseness leave her limbs as she lifted her hands, threading her fingers through his hair, clutching his face even closer to her bosom. Max sucked harder, squeezing and kneading her breasts, grazing her nipple with his teeth until she gave a sobbing gasp of surrender.

  ‘Fuck me,’ she begged. ‘Right here, right now!’ Her eager hands pulled at his trousers, jerking down the zip, freeing his aching prick.

  Max covered her lips with his, kissing her passionately, his tongue plunging deep inside her mouth, while Helen ran teasing fingers up and down the shaft of his penis. It jerked excitedly, and Max’s desire magnified, his cock feeling as if it was ready to explode.

  ‘Seeing you so out of control like this turns me on.’ Helen dipped her hand into the opening of his trousers, her fingers cupping the soft sac of his balls.

  ‘Then I’ll lose control more often,’ he growled, his hands reaching for her pussy.